


As I Lay Dying

by ohimadeitallup



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean Dies, I'm warning you, M/M, Sam POV, Season 9, Wincest - Freeform, samdean - Freeform, season 9 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 03:37:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1925310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohimadeitallup/pseuds/ohimadeitallup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angsty angst is angsty. ***Major spoilers for the Season 9 finale, so please don't read this if you haven't watched it.***</p>
<p>Sam's perspective on the story after Metatron bashes Dean up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As I Lay Dying

**Author's Note:**

> Another super angsty oneshot set in season 9. Don't ask. I have no idea why. Anyway, hope you enjoy reading this, and do let me know what you think! <3

Metatron better be scared. Metatron better be fucking _terrified_. Nothing- _nothing_ \- in the world was going to stop Sam from painfully, _torturously_ killing the Angel. Hell, given all he’d been through since the Angels walked the Earth, he had the goddamned _right_ to slaughter as many of their kind as they had slaughtered of his.

Dean. Dean was there. He was talking.

Proud. He was proud of them. Sam wanted to cry. He wanted to punch Dean in the face for going alone. He wanted to shatter the skies and let it rain blood. He wanted his brother to live.

“No,” he muttered, bearing all of the older hunter’s weight on his side. “Hey. Dean. Hey!”

“Sammy,” Dean sighed, smiling a bloody smile. Reassuring Sam. He hated it.

“We’re going to get you fixed up, okay?” Sam said, practically dragging his brother along. “Cas. Cas will know what to do.”

Dean chuckled at that. “He’s probably-” He coughed violently.

“Shh hey,” Sam said, rubbing a hand over Dean’s back until the coughing subsided. “Let’s take you home, okay?”

“Yeah,” Dean rasped, and then, “Don’t hurt my Baby.”

Sam huffed out a laugh, piling his brother into the back seat. “Cas!” he called, but there was no response. ‘Just as well’, thought Sam, ‘He better be up there in Heaven giving them hell.’

Dean coughed again and Sam quickly buckled himself into the driver’s seat, turning the key as the engine purred under him. The steady thrum of wheels on gravel seemed to lull Dean into something of a quiet daze, though Sam was relieved when he looked into the rear-view mirror and saw those leaf green eyes dull, but awake.

“Hey,” he called to Dean. “How you holdin’ up?”

“Oh you know,” came the grating reply. “Just peachy.” Sam noticed the thin smile and tightness around the corners of those eyes he loved so much. He just nodded and kept driving, pushing down all the words bubbling up in his throat because Dean was _not_ going to die tonight, damn it!

Parking outside the bunker quickly, Sam opened the back door, buckling slightly as Dean dropped heavily on to his side again. “It’s alright,” he said, more to reassure himself that his brother. “We’re alright. We’re home now.”

“Home,” Dean echoed with a dazed smile. “We have a home.”

Sam’s heart broke. No, that was an understatement. It shattered into a million pieces and lay at Dean’s feet. Blinking back the sting in his eyes, he soldiered them both through the bunker straight to their bedroom, putting his brother on to the bed. He turned to go get alcohol and clean the wounds up, when Dean’s voice called out a painful “Sammy”.

Quickly, Sam kneeled by the bed, face level with his brother’s. “What?” he whispered, because he couldn’t speak. His voice would shake, and he didn’t want Dean to see him cry. Not now.

“Promise me-”

“No,” Sam interrupted firmly, one hand coming up to clutch at Dean’s arm. “ _Don’t_.”

“Sam-”

“ _No_ , Dean!” Sam nearly yelled. “I know what you’re going to do. We are _not_ saying goodbye. Not now.”

Dean’s wide eyes penetrated his own for a minute, then closed as he nodded. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, Sammy.”

“Okay,” Sam repeated dumbly, getting up quickly to set about cleaning and sewing up Dean’s wounds. It was all he could think to do. Fix Dean.

He ran to the attached bathroom, rifling through the medicine cabinet for all he needed, grabbing the plastic cup from the wash basin and filling it up with water, and was back at Dean’s side in a minute. The older Winchester had a quick glance at all of Sam’s spoils and nodded appreciatively, then laid back in bed with a deep sigh, trusting his brother to take care of him.

Sam wasted no time in tearing Dean’s shirts off enough to expose his chest. A series of purple bruises lined the ribcage before him, and Dean winced when Sam barely touched his skin. Broken, then. He’d have to go get a brace tomorrow. He handed Dean three pain pills and held the cup of water at his mouth, tipping it till Dean had drunk about half the amount. He then wiped the drying blood off his face with a wet flannel, making sure to be extra gentle with every patch of skin.

“ ‘M not gonna break, Sammy,” Dean smiled, and Sam noticed that the blood on his teeth was mostly gone. He forced on a small smile, looking back down at the lacerations on the other man’s chest. “Hey,” Dean called, making him look up again.

“Yeah?”

Dean raised a hand to cup the younger hunter’s jaw, gaze flitting between both his eyes. “Never change,” he said quietly. “Okay?”

Sam couldn’t hold it in anymore, breaking into sobs, clutching at Dean’s torso as his entire body shook. “Dean,” he wailed, and it was almost a plea. A desperate prayer.

Dean carded weak fingers through his little brother’s hair like he had so many times before, right from when he had nightmares as a child and woke up to cling to him, to when he had Lucifer in his head and needed an anchor to this world. That was what Dean was to Sam- an anchor. Without him, Sam was lost to the tides of life, never to find a home. Dean _was_ his home. The thought made him cry harder, pressing his face into Dean’s chest, definitely hurting him more. Dean made no move to stop him. “Shh,” he said instead. “Hey it’s gonna be alright.”

“How can you _say_ that?!” Sam demanded, his voice thick and muffled. “Dean-”

“Sammy,” Dean said, unusually calm, and that one word soothed him like a thousand kisses. “You’ll be fine, okay?”

The sobbing stopped, as a sudden determination filled Sam. He sat back, taking one final glance at his brother, then got up and left the room, going to the living area of the bunker. “Cas!” he called. There was no reply. “Cas come on, you son-of-a-bitch, we need you!” Still no reply. “Cas _please_! Dean is…he’s…” Sam couldn’t bring himself to finish that sentence, the many implications of what he almost said suddenly forming an iron fist around his heart. He thought of all those times he’d fought with Dean, walked out on all they had, and the fist seemed to squeeze, sending fire through his veins.

He rushed back into the room, finding Dean taking slow, rattling breaths. His brother’s face lit up slightly as he dragged a chair to sit by the bed again, though the pain was still visible in his eyes.

“Sammy,” Dean breathed, and Sam wished he’d stop calling him that. It would make it just that bit easier to let go. Not that Sam intended to- not at all.

“I’m here,” he replied, taking one of Dean’s hands in both of his own. “It’s okay, Dean, I’m going to fix this.”

“No,” Dean said, his voice getting weaker with every staggering breath. “Sammy if you even think of making a deal-”

“ _What else am I supposed to do?_ ” Sam yelled. “No, Dean, _you_ listen to me. You let a fucking _Angel_ possess my body because you couldn’t let me die. Do you _really_ think I’m going to let you go?”

“You have an out,” Dean insisted, other hand coming to touch his face. Sam pulled away and Dean flinched at that, but kept going. “This ends here. Let the Angels and Demons do whatever the fuck they want. You get out of it now. Move to fucking Alaska or something, Sammy come on-”

“Dean we _never_ have an out,” Sam said, voice breaking at the end. “Once you’re a hunter, you kill, or you die. You taught me that, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” Dean whispered back. “Wichita. Shtriga. It was the first time we…”

Sam nodded, smiling fondly at the memory. “Dude I was so scared to kiss you,” he admitted, making Dean huff a quiet laugh, then look up at him with a smile in his eyes.

“ ‘M glad you did,” he said.

Sam leaned over, placing his lips against his brother’s, tears begin to fall down his face. “Don’t leave me,” he breathed against Dean’s mouth. “I can’t- I can’t live without you. _Please_ , Dean, I can’t _breathe_!”

“What are you talking about, ‘live without me’?” Dean said fondly. “I’m totally going to haunt your ass.”

Sam began to sob again, resting his forehead against Dean’s, tears now falling on to Dean’s face below him. “Promise me,” he said. “Promise you won’t leave me.”

“I promise,” Dean replied, placing a chaste kiss on Sam’s mouth. “I’m cold,” he said suddenly, then began to gasp desperately, taking in huge gulps of air like he couldn’t get enough.

“Dean?” Sam called loudly, touching his brother’s face. “Dean!”

“Sammy,” Dean mouthed, then went slack against the pillow, and Sam could only watch as the light left his brother’s eyes.

“Dean!” he cried. “ _Dean!_ Come _back_!” He shook his brother’s body, but to no avail. He placed two fingers against his neck and found no pulse. This was it. Dean was gone. Dean, who had promised never to leave, had left him all alone in the world.

Sam sat back in his chair, frozen in place as his mind seemed to come to a complete standstill. His breathing was hollow, eyes looking into a distance, unseeing. The world around him had halted with his brother, and he was now but an empty husk of a man with nothing to live for.

“Dean please,” he mumbled, hoping his brother’s soul was still around to hear him. “If you’re here, don’t-” he took a deep breath speaking through tears that wouldn’t stop flowing, “don’t leave me, man. I need you. Just- just hang around, okay? If a Reaper comes for you, kick it in the nuts. Fuck, kill it somehow, I don’t care, just don’t leave me, alright? I’ll bring you back, I promise. Give me some time, okay?” He took another deep breath, getting up to grab a familiar box he kept buried at the bottom of his rucksack, just in case of such an eventuality.

“And Dean?” he said, walking to the library, determination lengthening his stride.

“One more thing.” He sliced his hand, drawing the now well-known symbols on the floor.

“Just in case you need to hear it right now.”

He pulled out a matchstick and struck it, looking straight into the flame.

“I love you.”

Sam lit the candle.


End file.
